


Blossoming

by Corinna



Category: Glee
Genre: Break Up, Brooklyn, M/M, Sakura (Cherry Blossoms)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-04-30
Updated: 2013-04-30
Packaged: 2017-12-10 00:33:38
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,336
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/779757
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Corinna/pseuds/Corinna
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It doesn't have to last to be special.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Blossoming

Kurt opens the door to the loft on Tuesday morning and finds Adam there, holding a backpack and a bike helmet.

“Vanity or safety?” Adam says, holding the helmet up by its straps.

“What?”

“Vanity or safety? There’s something you absolutely need to see, and see today, and the easiest way to get there from here is by bicycle. So I brought you my flatmate’s.”

Kurt’s still stuck on the helmet. “Adam. I haven’t ridden a bike in years.”

Adam just smiles. “You’ll be fine! You never forget. It’s like riding a bicycle.”

Kurt rolls his eyes and goes to change into jeans he can ruin.

 

The ride ( _with_  helmet, thank you: Kurt loves his hair but he loves his brains more) is easy enough, once he gets the hang of it. Brooklyn’s streets are almost as flat as Lima’s, and there’s a nice stretch of downhill riding about halfway through that lets him coast. Adam’s up ahead on his old beater bike, giving Kurt an excellent view of his ass. He’s working up a bit of a sweat, and he can see dark stains on the back of Adam’s shirt as well.

It’s only twenty minutes until they’re biking down the broad esplanade at the center of Eastern Parkway, and then pulling up in front of - “the Botanical Gardens? This was the hurry?”

Adam nods, pulling two thick bike locks from his backpack. “They’re only free on Tuesdays. And this is  _the_  best Tuesday.”

“You do know that summer goes till September 20th.”

Adam just smiles. “Shows how much you know.”

They walk through the gates, past a beautiful manicured lawn surrounded by plants just starting to bloom, down a flight of stone stairs. Adam takes his hand lightly, guiding him past the lilac trees, over to the left, and then - oh.  _Oh_. There’s an entire broad esplanade beautiful blossoming trees in shades of pink and red, with people spread out on picnic blankets in the grass beneath them. The trees are mostly broad-trunked and look old, but the thickly-clustered blossoms are small and fragile; little pink leaves fall to the ground with each slight breeze.

“Japanese cherry blossoms,” Adam says.

Kurt’s seen pictures of cherry blossom trees before — Blaine’s parents had all sorts of Asia tourism coffee books in their living room — but he’s never seen one in person. They’re more gorgeous than he could have imagined. Walking down the esplanade in the shade of one long row of trees is like walking through a fairy tale; with the delicate flowers rustling above them, he can imagine himself in an enchanted wood.

They find a patch of shade far enough from the families with kids to be quiet, and they look up for a long while through the blossom-laden branches, still hand in hand. “This is amazing. I’ll have to come back a lot.”

“Not unless you have a lot of free time coming up, sadly,” Adam says. “This doesn’t last very long.”

“How do you mean?”

“The cherry blossoms: they’re gone in a matter of weeks. I check the garden’s website every spring to make sure I don’t miss them, and still I’ve only gotten three of four.”

“Oh.” Kurt looks around at the amazing display. It’s so serene, it’s hard to believe it’s transient.

They’re quiet again for a long time, nothing but birds and the kids playing tag on the other side of the lawn breaking the silence. Kurt’s legs ache pleasantly from the bike ride, and the shade’s cool and comfortable. Adam leans back on his elbows and stares up at the trees.

“That’s the thing about cherry blossoms,” Adam finally says. “They’re lovely. And maybe they’re lovely because they don’t last, yeah? Like you know you only have them for a little bit, so you appreciate them more.”

“The beauty that lasts but a moment before it dies.” Kurt sighs. “It’s terribly romantic.”

“It is. It doesn’t have to last to be special.”

Kurt looks over at Adam, who’s looking back at him now, steady and sure and just a little sad. He thinks back on what Adam’s just said, and — oh.  _Oh_. “This is about us?”

Adam looks as surprised as Kurt feels. “I love this place. I wanted to share it with you.” He turns so he’s sitting straight up, facing Kurt. “But… If we’re both thinking it, then maybe it is.”

“I don’t know what to say.”

Adam shrugs. He’s so tall and broad and solid, like the trees on the esplanade, and Kurt had thought he could find shelter there.

“It’s a bullshit move, making me bike for half an hour so you can break up with me somewhere scenic.”

“I’m not trying to break up with you, Kurt. I just want us to be honest with each other about what this is.”

“And what’s that?”

“Transient.” Adam looks away, towards the long row of trees at the other side of the lawn. “Maybe it’s not what either of us thought we were getting into,” he says, and his voice sounds sharp for the first time Kurt can remember. “But it’s not all bad.”

“You make it sound so appealing.” Kurt plucks at the grass, trying not to taste the bitterness welling in his throat.

Adam shrugs again. “I like hanging out with you. You seem to like hanging out with me well enough. So we do that. And we don’t worry about what happens if I go home next year, or you have someone —”

“You’re going home next year?”

For all they’ve talked about England, Adam’s never mentioned it as a possibility. Now he looks abashed at having brought it up.

“Hadn’t thought about it, really. But why not? If there’s nothing holding me here, might as well consider it. At least I wouldn’t have to get a work visa.”

Kurt has been holding on to Adam for months now. It never occurred to him that he’s also been weighing Adam down.

“You should do whatever you want,” he says, and he can hear his voice shake. “You should be happy.”

“Oh, Kurt.” Adam’s expression goes gentle and at least a little amused. “Please don’t. It’s not like any of this has been a hardship.”

It shouldn’t be sweet, but it’s the sweetest thing he can imagine Adam saying right then, and he has to lean over and hug him. It’s awkward: they’re still sitting facing each other on the lawn, and in order to not knock him down or pull him over (which would be a whole other level of awkward), Kurt has to climb up onto his knees and lean over across Adam’s lap, wrapping his arms around Adam’s shoulders. It has to look almost as odd as it feels, but no one’s watching. When Adam wraps his own arms around Kurt’s back and hugs him back, gentle and undemanding, Kurt smiles against his cheek. He would kiss him, if things were different.

When Kurt’s finally disentangled, he carefully crosses his legs and brushes the grass from his knees. “You’re still coming with me to Doug’s reading,” he says. “I am not facing that horrorshow alone.”

“Of course,” Adam says. “If you’re still my plus-one at Meredith’s recital.”

“You play hardball,” Kurt sighs, but it’s mostly for show. “It’s a deal.”

The sun breaks through one of the blossom-covered branches, and there’s a flurry of bird wings flapping above them. Kurt looks out on the grassy esplanade again. The trees are gorgeous, and he finds he’s happy Adam brought him here, happy to have had this moment, this something beautiful that’s almost but not quite enchanted. He’s spent all of his life looking forward, looking ahead to the next thing, the next success. Now he’s where he’s always wanted to be, even if it hasn’t been everything he wanted, maybe it’s time to stop and breathe and appreciate it for what it is. And then he’ll come back to the botanical gardens in the summer, he thinks, to see what blossoms next.

**Author's Note:**

> You too can track the Brooklyn Botanical Gardens's cherry blossoms: <http://www.bbg.org/discover/cherries> and [@bbgblossoms](https://twitter.com/bbgblossoms) on Twitter.


End file.
